Amnesia
by timydamonkey
Summary: Repost! Revised! Accidents can be staged. It takes a lot to see that this isn't an accident, it's attempted murder. Only something went wrong. Suze isn't dead. In hospital, her mind addled but in tact, she's determined to find out what happened. ON HOLD
1. Fly High, Fall Hard

Amnesia

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Disclaimer: Meg Cabot owns the Mediator, not me. 

Author's Note: Some of you may remember this. I originally posted it in December 2004. Now I'm revising it, reposting it and continuing with the story. Woot! I'll post a chapter a day until I'm to the point I was at. This is a Work in Progress, with five chapters (including the prologue) existing currently. Please, please, please review, I would really appreciate them and review count is the only reason I'm not posting these five chapters all together. Now, onto the extremely short prologue:

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Prologue: Fly High, Fall Hard

_Everything's just a big void of blackness. Nothing's there. It's just blank - a hole. Everything's gone. I can't remember anything – well, virtually anything. I can just remember one thing – just one little thing, and it keeps playing itself over in my head and haunting me. And the scariest thing is I can't work it out. I don't even know who they are._

_I'm standing there with blackness surrounding me. Actually, I'm not even standing. I'm weak. I'm falling. Why am I falling? Why can no one help? What's going on? And then, I see him. He's just a person, but he strikes fear into me. He's wearing a look that I can't place. Concern? Or satisfaction?_

_Just looking at him makes my blood run cold._

_Who _is _he? What happened?_

_I fall and hit the ground, then everything folds back into darkness. It's all I can remember. It's all I know._

_

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_Written 20/12/04. Revised 06/01/06. 


	2. Selective Memory

Chapter One: Selective Memory

People have selective memories. They can remember what they want to remember, and forget what they don't. Also, people who've gone through traumatic experiences tend to… well, forget things. People, memories, whatever. They usually don't forget everything, just certain things.

Apparently, I've been through a traumatic experience, it's just a shame that nobody – including myself – knows quite what that experience was. My memory has also decided to be selective, thus there are some things I can't remember. Quite a few things, actually; people and events, mostly. Apparently, I got knocked about a little, though so there were some things I forgot just for a few moments. You know, like when you wake up and then remember a couple of minutes later, something that you'd forgotten. Then there are these other things, which don't appear like they're going to be remembered anytime soon…

Let's backtrack a little, shall we?

When I woke up, I was in an oddly familiar place: I was in a hospital. This was a little odd, because I could swear I wasn't in a hospital before… And my head hurt like heck. The rest of my body was really achy too (I won't pretend it didn't hurt; it did. It hurt a lot.), but particularly my head. I didn't even know _why _everything hurt so much.

I first guessed something was badly wrong when I spotted the amount of people in the room. I mean, I've been in hospital before and everything, but I've never had this many people around, and definitely not all at once. I knew very few of the people, but there were some I didn't recognize.

I knew David, my stepbrother. I like David: he's really smart but doesn't show off or anything, and helps me sometimes. He, unlike most of the other people in the room, was grinning at me. He'd obviously realized I was awake. He didn't really say much to me, or anything at all actually, but he pulled on the sleeve of the strange man behind him, pointed at me and said, "She's awake." And that's when everybody else in the room started looking at me, all smiling. It was kind of creepy, actually. I scanned the room as swiftly as I could, to see if I actually knew anybody else. I did, but only one other person. The only other person I knew was…

"Jesse?" I asked groggily. I didn't even know if I could sound groggy before, but apparently I could. This, although it was only one thing, appeared to be the wrong thing to say. The people I didn't know were giving each other quizzical looks, and David was looking around like he was scared of something – or someone. Was he scared of the air or something? He was just looking around, seeming pretty much terrified.

Then all of a sudden, it hit me. I don't know why. I was just lying there wondering why everyone was looking at me like I'd suddenly spouted out a foreign language, and then it was just like _oh yeah, I'm a mediator. Nobody else can see Jesse. _It was just as well I did work this out and didn't say anything else that was obviously to Jesse, him being a person who didn't seem to exist to anybody else but me, because one of the people I didn't know who looked… well, about my age, said "she's delusional."

He didn't really sound all that concerned. He sounded… well, sort of amused. Like he'd been waiting for a day to prove that I was crazy or something.

Jesse and David both frowned at the boy, and David went into this lecture about how I probably wasn't delusional, but I wasn't really listening. I was watching Jesse. He was walking up to me, looking thoroughly concerned. "_Querida, _what happened to you?" He asked, seemingly bewildered that I was in this mess.

I was kind of bewildered myself, too, come to think of it. I didn't know what had happened, really. It was just… nothing. All gone…

"I don't know," I said, truthfully. This time, I had the sense to speak in almost a whisper, out of the corner of my mouth. I really didn't need people to have concerns about my mental well-being as well as physical. The only thing I could remember… was the falling. And the guy. He could well be the nicest person in the world, but he still looked like the devil to me. Why? Because I'd been falling and he'd just stood there. I may not know whether he was concerned or satisfied, but it didn't really make any difference to me. He'd still just _stood _there.

Seeing as I had no clear idea of what had happened, maybe he wouldn't have been able to help me. But he could have at least _tried_. Okay, I'm an independent person. I can fight my own battles and everything. But it doesn't mean that when I'm obviously in some sort of trouble, that everyone should just stand by. Maybe the '_everyone' _is an exaggeration as there was only one guy as far as I can remember, but you know what I mean. It's just called decency, helping people when they obviously need help.

But did I obviously need help? Hmm. That was something to think about…

I guess things like that can often depend on people's perspective: maybe it seemed like I was fine, but somehow I highly doubted that. Maybe it was for my best interest I was left alone, the same way that it was apparently 'in my best interest' for… I don't know, seeing a psychiatrist because of my tendency to talk to myself. Even if I _don't _talk to myself, it might seem like that, but I still never thought it was in my best interests to be shut up with somebody who thought I was crazy.

Anyway, I did consider telling Jesse what I could remember. The whole falling thing. I know it would sound weird, and I had no idea what to say. To be honest, I took it a step further than considering, and said it…

…Or at least, I tried to.

I had no idea what I was going to say, but I thought I could at least say _something _even if it came out as a load of babbling nonsense… but no. I opened my mouth and said. "I can…" _remember something about falling_, is what I was probably going to say, but my mouth just seized up. Damn, don't tell me my mouth was injured too? Now I really wanted to know what happened – not that I hadn't before.

But, the thing is, I guess it must have looked intentional, as Jesse said "Yes?" in his soft tone of voice. The strange thing was that it wasn't. I did try to say it again, as my jaw had loosened again, but it became seized up again. I couldn't even get past 'I' that time. It was very strange, like it was a conspiracy or something. I couldn't really work it out: my brains were still in a scramble from the whole unconscious thing, so I just shook my head.

"Nothing," was all I said, shaking my head. Jesse frowned slightly again, and I first thought he wasn't going to believe that I'd forgotten or whatever, but apparently he did. I don't know why he changed his mind, though. My jaw was fine then. My whole _mouth _was fine then. Odd. Very odd, but I never had any idea of what had happened.

I was about to say something again, but Jesse spoke, saying, "Susannah, I must go and see Father Dominic." He leant down and kissed my forehead gently, smiled, and dematerialised.

I blinked.

I know, not the most intelligent thing to do, but I was still a bit – a lot – shaken by what was going on. It felt as if it was one of those out-of-body experiences, actually – not that I'd ever had one - except that I could still feel the pain, so I knew it was real. It didn't really make much difference, anyway; real or imaginary, it was still _weird._

Anyway, David came over to me, with a bunch of the people I didn't know. They all seemed to have gotten over the whole thing of me seeming delusional, as nobody was looking the slightest bit amused now, not even that boy who had before.

"Suzie, thank goodness you're all right," said the woman. I was wondering dimly why on earth she was calling me _Suzie. _My name was Suze – well, all right, Susannah. But most people just seemed to call me Suze. The woman was smiling down at me, looking extremely happy for some reason I couldn't fathom. There was just one woman. She was with a man and two other boys. David seemed to be with them as well, but I couldn't for the life of me work out who they were. It was something I realized I probably _should _know though, if David knew them. But the fact remained; I had no idea who they were.

That was probably why I didn't tell them I didn't know who they were. The fact that I should know who they were, I mean. I didn't know what to say…

"I'm all right," was what I ended up saying. I know, I know, I probably sounded stupid but I didn't know what else to say. This was _really _ridiculous. I think that the fact it seemed so ridiculous was why I asked David, "Who are they?" to their faces. He knew whom I meant too, because I pointed to clarify that it was them I was talking about.

The woman and man, who had been smiling in something resembling relief, exchanged worried glances and their faces fell. I couldn't really read the expressions on any of the boys faces – David's included. It's no lie that I was very confused. I was beginning to feel like I knew them quite well, actually – not because I remembered them, but because of the concern they were showing. Well, the concern the _adults _were showing anyway.

Confusion is not fun. It's downright annoying, to be honest. I frowned. David wasn't answering my question. The woman tried to, though. Her words meant something, but I didn't know whether or not she was telling the truth. I didn't know whether I heard them right or not, to be honest, as the dull pain in my body heightened and I started to feel dizzy. Everything was spinning out of focus. I did _not _feel good…

…_Suzie, it's me, I'm your mother…_

My mother? I blinked. Was I hearing her right? Was she even saying it? The room was rocking crazily now. It was stupid: there wasn't even a reason why it was doing it. I felt sick.

I must have looked pretty terrible, as I could feel myself being shaken. Or maybe it was just anger. The woman sure seemed angry enough.

_Suze, why don't you know me? Are you joking? I'm your mother, I'm your mother, I'm your mother…_

That's all I could hear except a strange buzzing sound in my ears as the room completely tilted to one side and I blacked out.

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Author's Note: Thank you very much for the reviews, guys. :) Any other commets would still be much appreciated.

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Revised 07/01/06. 


	3. Lucky Break

Chapter Two: Lucky Break

Woke up. Blacked out. Woke up. Blacked out.

It's getting to be quite a pattern, now. It seemed to be a totally endless cycle. However, it's not living up to its name now: it doesn't seem quite so 'endless' anymore. I'm breaking free of the pattern. I did wonder why I could stay awake so long in the first place, and now I barely can stay conscious for five minutes. I'm not in any more pain than I was when I first woke up; in fact it's probably lessened.

Doctors come in and say it's shock. Shock from what? From forgetting things? I don't know. I can tell I've forgotten a _few _things obviously, but every so often when they question me ("checking to see if you remember anything else, dear") they glance at each other sideways and raise an eyebrow, like I'm saying something wrong or ridiculous.

I'm awake again now, obviously, but it's been two days. I've had only one visitor while I've been awake, no more, neither living nor dead. That kind of surprised me. I was kind of expecting loads of ghosts to come while I was sick, because that seems to be the way that things go.

As it so happens, the person who came to see me _was _a ghost, but one I knew. Jesse. We didn't really get to talk much though. He rushed off quite quickly when I was awake. I was very confused, because I didn't know how long he'd been there…

People must have been to see me while I was asleep though: I had some presents: flowers, cards, chocolates, even a teddy bear (which seemed a bit of a strange gift). I don't even know who sent many of them. I haven't had a chance to look at the tags, and I'm worried that if I do I won't be able to remember whoever sent it, who obviously cares about me in some kind of way to send me a present.

Well, okay, tell a lie. I did look at one. I didn't think that anyone I didn't know would send me anything. Low and behold, the first thing I picked up (the flowers) were sent by somebody I didn't know. Somebody called Paul. It put me off looking at who my other well-wishers were. I don't want to know how many people I've forgotten…

I started drifting off again… I've been unbelievably tired recently. I'm so drained and I don't know why. I was practically sleeping, but not quite. Having a nice slumber… Then the next second, I was wide-awake.

How? Because I heard it. I heard the crash of something dropping, and then a muttered curse. My eyes snapped open, but there was no one there. Nothing out of the ordinary, or even ordinary for that matter… there just didn't seem to be anything there.

…Well, except the smashed vase. I could see it when I rolled to the side, nearly cutting my face on the sharp fragments: there were pieces on the floor and on the bed. Piling on the pillow on my bed, just a few inches from my head. Those pieces on the floor had evidently fallen from there.

Cold fear rushed through my veins and I froze, staring at the pieces in shock and horror. What on earth was going on?

The shock wasn't because the vase had been dropped; that was perfectly understandable. No, I was shocked for two reasons: because the culprit was nowhere to be found and because of how close that vase had been to smashing my head… and cracking my head open, because let me tell you, I'd held that vase and inspected it when I was overwhelmed by the presents I'd received. It was heavy, and the broken pieces scattered about were _very _sharp.

All I could think of was, how lucky was I? Bad luck for accidents, good luck for it not hitting me. Lots of luck.

Unbelievable almost. I mean, who else has that kind of luck? But coincidences happen, don't they? And they can be used to cover up what's really going on. But at the time, I was just really grateful for my apparent large amount of luck.

Hey, the only reason I didn't connect anything was because I didn't know anything. My brain was still all woolly because I was so tired, so you can't blame me for thinking that I was lucky for it not hitting me, and unlucky that someone had been holding it near me. I wasn't thinking properly, okay?

I sat up. It hurt a lot, but I could sit up. Sitting up, it was so much easier to look around. I looked around the room. I don't really know what I was looking for. Maybe looking to see if whoever had smashed the vase was still around (although I'd looked lying down, I could have missed them as I didn't exactly have a great view of the whole room then), and even if they weren't, to see if there was a trace of them. You know, a clue. It didn't seem as important to me then, but I did want to know who'd visited me while I was asleep. It only seemed fair to, you know, let me know who my visitors were, whether I remembered them or not. Of course, I did want to recollect people and I'd recently taken on a new tactic: if I could _speak _to anyone I couldn't remember then maybe it would make me remember them. You know, memories and everything.

I did find something, but not what I expected. It was one of those post-it notes stuck to the wall near my bed.

I reached out. My arm felt strangely weak and pained as I grabbed for it, but I did managed to get it, although it took longer than I had anticipated. I read it as quickly as I could. My emotions were toying with each other: fear and confusion. Confusion won over.

Hey, don't get me wrong, I was a little bit scared, more because of what the note said that anything else. But I was also confused. Someone else I didn't know. Sure, the content wasn't that nice (okay, not nice at all), but it was the signature that worried me most. _Alicia. _Someone else I didn't know.

The weirdest thing was, she knew me very well, or at least she seemed too. The way she wrote about it. Empty threats hung around my neck like a noose. She seemed to hate me, but in a strange way, she was helping. I still had no idea who she was, I just knew she hated me, but was she trying to help me, or did she just not know…?

All of a sudden, Jesse materialized next to me. I'd been staring at the note for what seemed like hours, pondering, but it probably was less than five minutes.

"_Querida," _Jesse said, causing me to look up. I hadn't really _known _he'd materialized until then. "Are you okay?" I guess I must have looked pretty shaken up, but you can't exactly blame me.

"I'm fine!" I said too quickly. He raised an eyebrow at me. He knew that I hadn't told him the truth…

He pointed at the note in my hand. "Susannah, what is that?" He looked rather confused. I thought about explaining that it was a post-it note, but I think he knew. Besides, maybe he could help me shed some light on whom this Alicia person was. I really wanted to know. So I showed him.

When he'd materialized, he'd seemed very half-hearted, but he seemed to grow subdued and _very _angry when he read it. His scar was glowing white, and the room was shaking in an annoying fashion. He started muttering some words in Spanish – I didn't know what they translated to, but I'd grown to recognize them as some kind of curses. He didn't offer an explanation though, just dematerialised just like that.

Why? I have no idea…

However, a strange laugh came from behind me. "You are so predictable, Ms. Ackerman," said a strangely cold but amused voice.

I froze. Boy, things were just getting better and better.

_Boy,_ I thought, _and they say I've _not_ lost my mind. Well, if I've not, it'll only be a matter of time at this rate._

As I slowly turned around, I found myself hoping against hope that my sanity held out, because this was getting beyond weird and bordering onto the impossible – and that was one thing I really, truly hated.

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Author's Note: Thank you very much for the reviews, all of you. Once again, I appreciate the gesture and hope that you review again. :)

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Revised 08/01/06. 


	4. A Lot of Confusion

Chapter Three: A Lot of Confusion

I turned around and saw… nothing.

Anti climatic, huh? Well, there just didn't seem to be anything there.

So, I bent down to pick up the post-it note. Jesse had dropped it when he dematerialised. I was reading it again. Not that I needed to: the words were already etched in my brain, as was the name.

Alicia? Who the Hell was Alicia?

I sighed, turning around, just about ready to flop back down on the bed. I'd spent a lot of energy just getting up, and bending down to pick up that note spent much more energy than I expected.

What I saw made me literally fall over in shock. So much for savouring energy. I didn't even know whether I'd be able to get up again… oh yeah, and the fall made the pains of my injuries intensify by, I don't know… one hundred percent?

Anyway. There was this kid standing in front of me. Okay, she was about my age, maybe a bit younger, but I say kid because of the childlike grin on her face. There was just the one difference: the grin was evil, amusement dancing in her eyes.

_Excuse me_? Me nearly breaking my body apart is _funny?_

Charming.

Anyway, the kid had short brown hair and was wearing clothes that looked like they hadn't seen the washer in a few years. Which, seeing as she was a ghost and all, was really very possible.

Oh, and yeah, the other thing: her lovely other worldly glow. If that didn't tell you she'd snuffed it, nothing could. I saw that I seemed to have several orders of business to attend to, now…

However, first thing was first: punch her for laughing at my misfortune. However, I found I really didn't have the energy to sit up, let alone punch her.

Sadly, I was forced to move along to the second matter at hand.

"Why the Hell did you call me Ackerman?"

"It's your family name, Susie," she said in this really annoying, fake, sickly sweet voice.

_Susie?_

How many people were calling me Susie today?

"My name is Suze. Not Susie," I said in as warm a tone as I could muster, which ended up being about as warm as snow.

Yeah, really warm then, huh?

Then, as almost as afterthought, I said, "Wait a minute. What do you mean, my family name?"

Family name. Surname. My family name is Simon. Not Ackerman…

The kid stared at me, seemingly confused. Then cracked up laughing.

I'm not kidding. She acted like it was the funniest thing in the world. _Oh my God, I've been calling this girl by the wrong surname! Hahaha! _

Am I the only one who seems to find that odd? I mean, where's the humour in it? Where?

Huh. Bring on the insanity verdict.

Only it turned out that wasn't what she was laughing at after all. Oh, no. I was glad, in a way, I mean, who would laugh at that?

Hey, I couldn't help being a bit paranoid. Seeing your face nearly get smashed in tends to do that to you, you know?

Not to mention how embarrassing that would be. I can see it now: 'Susannah Simon – Killed by being speared with shards of a broken vase.'

Yeah, I'd be remembered as the idiot who died by… died by what? Spearing? What do you even call it, anyway?

But that's all beside the point. The point is, she was laughing at me, and not even having the decency to hide her obvious amusement.

"You… forgot…" she wheezed, not because she was struggling breathing or anything, but with pure laughter.

Never have I wished more than my arms were in full working order. Or legs for that matter.

"Forgot what?" I asked.

"Your family. Do you even know what happened?"

Okay, so I may have had amnesia but I wasn't a complete moron. I knew what she was talking about – to an extent, anyway.

"No," I said softly.

I stayed in a silence for a few minutes, while the ghost kept emitting peels of laughter. It was rather annoying, actually. Given a choice of vase-smashed-into-head or watching-annoying-dead-kid-laugh-at-you, I'd probably take the vase, and that's saying something. It's a shame I'm not telekinetic or something. Bonk, right down on her head. That'd shut her up.

Well, other than the fact the vase is smashed. The pieces would make good knives, though. I always did want to learn how to juggle…

I had to remind myself that her, in her ghostliness, could cause things to levitate and smash down on _my_ head. That was the only reason I didn't bother wasting energy trying to get her.

When complete quietness came down in the room, she suddenly nodded at the note in my hand. I'd still been clutching onto it all the time. "What's that?"

I looked at her like she was retarded. "It's a _note._"

"Yes, yes," said the girl, impatient for some unfathomable reason. "But what I'm asking is who is the note from."

I shrugged, oh-so intelligently. "Dunno." Wait a minute, I did know. Well, I knew the name. "Oh yeah, someone named Alicia…"

I swear I saw something in her face then. I _swear _it. But then it was gone as quickly as it had come, so I don't know whether or not I imagined the whole thing.

"Do you know her?" I asked. Okay, so it wasn't brilliantly subtle. Or subtle at all, as a matter of fact. Still, can you blame me? I was in a lot of pain, as well as getting very tired. I'd just about used up every ounce of energy in my body…

Not fun.

She chuckled softly. "No, I can safely say I don't know anyone called Alicia…" She muttered something as a side note, but I couldn't pick it up. Maybe if I would have, I'd have been able to find things out earlier. Maybe… then again, maybe not.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then the ghost kid decided that she'd outstayed her welcome. Or maybe she was just bored of her one-sided little joke, I mean, it was pretty stupid. "I shall see you later, Miss Ackerman." She grinned.

I didn't even hear the first bit, just the name. "IT'S MISS SIMON, NOT MISS ACKERMAN!" I yelled at her, but she'd already dematerialised.

I stared at the bed, wishing I could somehow levitate it to me or something. However, there was no such luck…

I needn't have worried though, as the door opened. However, it was one of the nurses and she didn't look happy. She took one look at the state of the room, then me, still in pain, in a heap on the floor. She sighed. "What have you done this time…?"

I resent that! I'm not that terrible.

I didn't say anything, though. She walked over, tutting, then swore. I looked at her like she was crazy, but then saw her slide on the floor. Not that the floor was wet or anything, but vase pieces make extraordinarily slippy surfaces.

She looked down at it then examined the bed, which I presume still had large pieces of broken up vase on there. She gave me a really weird look, then came up to me and went, "Your cheek is bleeding."

I blinked, reaching up groggily to touch it and drew away some blood. Damn vase. It didn't even hurt – but how could I not go when a part of my face apparently had managed to get mashed in?

I blinked in confusion.

She looked at the floor again and said, "Did you fall on any more glass?"

"Uh," I replied intelligently. "I don't know."

She looked up at the ceiling and mutter something, vaguely giving me a flash of a nun – Sister Ernestine – doing that whenever she "washed her hands" of us children. The thought made me smile a little, which just made the nurse (when she looked back) look even more concerned.

They all think I'm insane.

"Well, does anything hurt?" She asked.

Does anything hurt? Honestly. I'm sure she must be pretty new to this nursing lark, and I didn't want to scare her or anything, so I refrained from using any sarcasm whatsoever in my answer. It was very difficult, actually.

"Hurts all over."

"Did you hit your head?"

"I don't think so."

"What happened to the vase?" Geez, what was this? An interrogation?

"I don't know," I replied. "I woke up and all of a sudden there's this load of razor sharp vase in my bed, inches away from my face."

She looked worried. "You've had no visitors, and the nurses haven't been here yet today." Uh, so? "Are you sure you didn't hit your head, dear?"

I was starting to get very frustrated. "No, I didn't hit my head. What's going on?"

The nurse didn't answer, just ushered me back to bed and hurried off. I wondered if I was going to get another psychiatrist. She'd spoke to me like a five year old! Maybe the nurse needed one; she did seem to go off on one over something stupid.

I shrugged, too tired and worn out to put too much effort into thinking about, and succumbed myself to sleep.

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Author's Note: Yeah, this is the chapter that's changed the most since the first posting, particularly because of the addition at the end. It means I may need to rewrite more of chapter four(so it may not be out tomorrow, though I'll try to make it so), but that chapter used a very different writing style, as my style had changed from when I started writing this. You might notice that in later chapters, actually. Anyway, thanks a bunch for all the reviews, and please keep my review count up. :P

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Revised 09/01/06. 


	5. Rumplestiltzkin

Chapter Four: Rumplestiltzkin

When I woke up the next day, there was a lady at my bedside with a clipboard and pencil, making notes.

I jumped about a foot in the air. Being watched while you sleep is _creepy_, particularly when nobody tells you to expect it when you wake up.

The lady had brown hair titled up into a bun and was wearing glasses. She raised an eyebrow at my reaction to her presence, but just said, "Hello, dear" and continued writing.

I blinked confusedly.

With a shrug, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about how long I'd been stuck in a hospital bed. It was probably only a few days, but the time seemed to drag on like years – and it was with that thought that I ran a hand through my hair, and my nails got tangled in it.

Pulling a face, I unwrapped my fingers from my hair and went, "Can I lend a mirror?" At this, she looked far too calculating, so I added a "please?" to the end of it.

"I don't know if that would be a good idea, dear."

"What?" I snapped. "Why? I want to check my hair. God, I knew it was bad – and now you're looking at me like I'm Frankenstein's monster! Do I _really _look that bad?" Oh God, I really hoped nobody had seen me like this.

She reluctantly got a compact mirror out of her pocket, but refused to let me hold it. So I had to deal with a lady anxiously holding this mirror as if I couldn't do it myself. It was really embarrassing – and annoying. But hey, it gave me two hands free to sort out my hair – that, I guess, helped.

"So," she said conversationally, "what can you remember about the accident?"

I suddenly got an uncomfortable feeling that she was the psychiatrist I had promised myself, and squirmed away. This was a bad idea, because I could tell from looking at her face that it would be going down on the clipboard when she had both hands free to write it.

"Um, it was weird, there was this g…" My mouth snapped shut in an eerily familiar gesture, but I couldn't remember why it seemed so familiar. Oh well, the woman didn't really need to know. She could mind her own damn business. She was still looking at me weirdly though, as if sensing there was more to me shutting up than I let on.

"So… can I hold the mirror now?"

She gave it to me, studying my face intently. "You were find… near the beach," she said softly. "Do you remember how you got there?"

At the same time, I saw murky blue depths of sea, feeling like I was going to suffocate, freezing in the cold, choking, coughing, spluttering on salty water that made my eyes sting… and in that same second it was gone, and a lancing white-hot pain tore through my forehead, making me ball my fists up.

Feeling a sharp pain in my palm, I instinctively dropped what was in it – the mirror. It seemed to have shattered and some of my blood had caught on it, I noticed. I never thought or mirrors being so sharp – or so dangerous.

Whatever. It looked like I'd made a right mess, and I didn't really understand what had happened. I forced myself to pick up the glass, staring oddly at the shattered reflections, dozens of little me's reflecting all over the place and then being practically torn in two.

I twitched my hands reflexively, and then there was a hand over my shoulder, steering me away and forcing me to lie down. I considered fighting the grip, but was too dazed. _What had I just seen?_

The lady tried to interrogate me again, but I barely heard her questions, just acknowledged that she was speaking. She seemed to give up, gave me a concerned look and left the room.

I stared at the whitewashed ceiling once more.

That's one thing about hospitals: there's forever room to think, but sometimes you seem to be one doomed to think there forever.

* * *

Being in a hospital really is boring, especially when you have no visitors. 

Yeah. You got that right.

I sure wasn't popular, was I?

I mean, even ONE visitor would be nice, but _nooo_, I have to stay here, trying to think who the hell Alicia is. And I have no leads.

Although, that lady hasn't been in recently either. I have a horrible feeling that she's banned visitors from seeing me entirely – after all, I'm a fellow inmate – oh, wait, I mean patient, not that there's really a difference in my view – as a punishment for breaking her compact mirror.

I hope not. It wouldn't be my fault if she were stupidly attached to a mirror, anyway. I certainly wouldn't take the blame for it.

The thing is, I've not even had a spectral visitor here. In a way, I'm kind of glad that I didn't see that kid again; she was just annoying. 'Oh look; she can't remember anything! THAT IS SO FUNNY! Watch me hyperventilate then die as I laugh at your situation! BWAHAHA!' And then I'd be there shouting, 'hey! I remember some things!', and then she'd be all, 'you don't know ME, do you?' And I'd be silent, but thinking like, yeah, well, I certainly hope that I didn't know her.

I don't THINK I did, but you never know. Then again, why I'd be hanging around with a ghost is beyond me.

It kind of sucks that even _Jesse _didn't come and see me. I mean, seriously, he's MEANT to care, but he doesn't look like he does! But then, if visitors really have been banned, Jesse might not come. I mean, God forbid he break a rule. I swear, he's too… good, sometimes.

Still, even if what I fear has happened, that wouldn't extend to the undead variety now, would it? I mean, I'm pretty sure the ban only reached the living.

So, yeah, considering my total lack of visitors, I was jumping for joy when I got one. A visitor, I mean. Unfortunately, it was another person who I didn't know. Ugh, how annoying.

Still, maybe this meant visitors _could_ come and see me – but just hadn't bothered. That thought felt even worse.

He strolled over to me with a superior air and smirked at me. Why do I get the impression that I have NEVER liked this guy?

"Hey, Suze."

I glowered at him. "Hello. Mind telling me who the Hell you are?"

He raised an eyebrow, and his smirk widened. "You don't remember me?"

"No," I replied, defeated.

Some expressions flashed across his face – concern, worry – and I suddenly remember something.

A guy. Smirking. Looking concerned, looking satisfied, me staring at him, him not trying to help, me falling, falling, falling…

Falling into oblivion.

With a jolt, I was back to the time. I stared at him, terrified.

"_I know you,_" I whispered, horrified.

Why did it take me so long to see this was him? I'd been more fixated on the expression than the guy, but when I think about, this guy is identical. Scary….

"Really? I thought you just said you forgot me," he looked kind of confused. Couldn't really blame him, I do seem to change my mind about things, don't I?

"Yeah, well, you watched me get hurt. You just stood there, and SMIRKED. Having a good laugh, were you?"

He looked quite horrified, though I'm sure it was put on. "I wouldn't laugh at that," he said seriously. "You didn't want my help."

Ha! That's rich! So I'd said, 'yeah, if I look like I'm getting into some serious accident or slowly dying, please leave me alone. Better yet, stand around and watch, and then laugh about it with all your friends afterwards. You could say over a glass of beer, "yeah, I knew Susannah Simon, I watched her snuff it! Seriously, it was funny. You should have seen her face! And she was gaping like a fish, and screaming, 'I'm dying, I'm dying!'"?'

Okay, maybe not. I'm sure I'd never be THAT pathetic.

And I would NEVER scream 'I'm dying, I'm dying!' Just goes to show you what gossip can turn into, eh?

And until now, I thought girls were the queens of gossip…

Rather than saying all of this, I just stated, "Says the boy who's a psychopathic genius…"

"Hey! Where'd you hear that I was a psychopath?" His eyes bored into mine.

"It's obvious," I said airily, "Your confident smirks, that maniacal smile, not to mention that twinkle you get in your eye. Oh, and let's not forget how damn amused you looked when I got my memories knocked out of my head." See, I'd just about placed one of the looks. Amused. I've not worked out the confusion/satisfaction parallel yet, but he was definitely amused.

HELLO? What is amusing about an accident? It's NOT FUNNY!

He glowered at me, looking murderous. See! Psychopathic!

What's the definition of a psychopath, anyway?

So, anyway, this guy doesn't say anything, so I ask the all-important question. And no, it's not 'are you single?' Sure, the guy's hot, but his personality is like something out of, I don't know, 'The Ugly Duckling'. It goes without saying that this Ugly Duckling has a long way before becoming a beautiful swan…. Okay, that was a weird example.

"What's your name?"

Good question, isn't it? I mean, I hated him so much that I felt like I knew him. Which I probably had, but you get what I mean. Knowing his name might be nice.

And his age. And how we met… And, well, lots of other things that I'm dying to get my hands on. You can't blame me really.

He looked amused. "Bob." He's amused that he's telling me his name?

Oh, right.

"Haha, very funny," I scowled at him. "Really, what is it?"

"Rumpelstiltzkin."

Dude, mocking the amnesiac girl is _so_ not funny. I start to get really mad at his underestimation of my intelligence. I mean, he thinks that I'd fall for _RUMPELSTILTZKIN_? Geez, I may have forgotten some things, but I'm not stupid.

…God. He thinks I'm a moron, doesn't he?

Not that I should care or anything, but you know how things go.

"Tell. Me. Your. Name." I hissed at him, giving him a glare that I hope yells out, _answer or die. _I really hoped that he wasn't going to say Rapunzel, next… I can't quite imagine someone climbing down his hair… or his being female, actually…

"Pe…"

All of a sudden, there was the flash of materialization next to me. My first thought was, 'psycho ghost girl's back again! Honestly, two psychos in the same room! Can my day get any worse?' Then, I realized that it was Jesse. You know, I was almost disappointed. After all, Jesse had been ignoring me, and, heck; I'd been waiting for a long time to practise my non-existent talents at telekinesis… After all, there's nothing like smashing a few vases on someone's head when they call you by the wrong name.

Great, now I'm the psychopath.

What is it with me and psychopaths today?

Jesse looked like he was going to say something, but then he happened to see the-hot-guy-who-should-be-burned-to-death. His eyes narrowed. Hey, he looked more hateful than me! Maybe he's a psycho- Okay, okay, I've got to get that out of my head now… I've got dismiss that word from my vocabulary, or something…

"Slater!" he thundered, and stepped forward threateningly. I grinned. Now I wasn't the only who looked like I had someone trying to off me…

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, this is the most heavily edited chapter. The first section is completely new, and the second just has some additions. The writing style change is easy to explain because, as I mentioned last chapter, I changed a lot. I left the writing style like that to keep in humour, and as a nod to an old style. You should be going back to your regularly-scheduled not-completely-insane writing style next chapter though. Yay. Also, I have the plot together. Double yay! Very different from the books, though... be warned! 

Next chapter may take longer as it's being written completely from scratch and I have a GCSE IT exam on Friday. Wish me luck!

And don't forget, I love your reviews, so please leave one. :)


	6. Trust and Instinct

Chapter Five: Trust and Instinct

The guy spun around and looked at Jesse hard for a moment, his fists clenched at his sides. He closed his eyes and when they snapped open again, he'd completely relaxed his expression and he spoke in a low drawl.

"Relax, de Silva, nothing's going on." He rolled his eyes at Jesse, and I saw Jesse trying to reign his own anger in. It was strange; I'd never seen Jesse so angry before. These guys obviously had a whole lot of history together – and they wouldn't trust each other as far as they could throw each other. It was slightly disconcerting.

For about a minute, there was nothing but silence, but then this 'Slater' guy looked up and went. "Well, I've got better things to do than sitting around having a replica of a sponsored silence." He turned to walk out the door but before he did, he turned to me and went, "Later, Suze."

Baffled by his change of attitude, I could only incline my head slightly and hastily mutter a, "Bye."

Jesse looked as baffled as I felt at the guy's sudden getaway. He walked over to me and reached out a hand, cradling mine in his. He sat down on a chair beside my bed and regarded me seriously. "Susannah," he said softly, "Slater is not to be trusted. You must watch out for him."

"Slater?" I asked him. "Weird name. But why can't I trust him?"

"His," he paused for a moment, "surname, as you say, is Slater. His full name is Paul Slater. But _querida_, he has hurt you before and taken advantage of you. I cannot trust that he will not do this again."

I sat up through a far dulling pain, then wondered aloud, "What did he do?"

"He told me a number of months ago," Jesse said through gritted teeth, looking like he was trying to force the words out and not appear angry even as his grip tightened marginally on my hands, "that you and he were in his bed together."

I shot up, startled. "I would never-" I began, anger coursing through my veins, but Jesse unclasped my fingers and held up a hand, halting me. I felt such strong emotions for Jesse that I'd never do anything to hurt him, I was sure. He smiled softly, and absently ran a hand through my hair.

"I know, _querida._ But I do not trust that he would not use exertion to get what he wanted of you."

I fidgeted uncomfortably, messing with the bedclothes. I couldn't believe it. "But-" I protested feebly, but apparently Jesse hadn't finished.

"Also, you did…" he paused again, this time acting like he was wondering what to tell me. "Do you remember the place you call Shadowland?" He asked finally, staring at me intently.

At the word, a flash of a place assaulted my eyes. Everywhere seemed to be almost black, stars twinkling overhead in an area rolling with thick fog, moving and chilling me to the bone. The whole place was lined with doors, each door looking the same as the last, no way to distinguish one from another. I had the creepy feeling that that hallway – this corridor – would go on forever. One of the doors, however, was open and a dark haired boy turned back, looking me in the eye with an amused eyebrow quirked up.

…Then he took a step forward and shut the door and there was a blinding white flash of light…

And then I was sat on my bed, trembling, eyes closed against the blindingly bright white light. An arm went around my shoulder and I leant into Jesse – for whom else would it be? – trying to calm down my breathing and increase my body temperature.

"Are you alright?" Jesse asked uncertainly, and as I opened my eyes, I saw he was staring at me with an immeasurable amount of concern.

"I'm fine," I said shortly, but didn't reach out to get away from him. "Anyway, yeah, I think I remember it," I muttered evenly, staring stubbornly at the bedspread.

He didn't look convinced at my declaration of being perfectly alright, but let the matter drop.

"Some time ago, you did a brave thing to help me, with a possible forfeit of your own life," Jesse was staring intently at me as he continued, "and if you were not back within a certain time limit, then you would be stuck as a ghost. Slater was there, but he refused to help, just wasted our time speaking cryptically. I also believe that he sabotaged our escape route, so that we made a very lucky escape together."

I swallowed. I'd probably have felt better not knowing that.

"When I saw him, I got the feeling I didn't like him…" I swallowed as I thought about the pretty hot, but altogether normal looking guy. How could he be a part of some things that seemed so… wrong? "And that maybe I never had liked him," I continued. "But for some reason, I still feel compelled to trust him - at least a little." This feeling seemed to come from very deep down, but I wasn't going to tell Jesse that.

I looked at him almost apologetically, and he gave a strained smile. "If you feel you must trust him, do as you will, Susannah. But I am afraid that I cannot do so. I do not believe there is any good in Paul Slater."

I shrugged slightly, sitting up from his embrace. "They say there's a bit of good in everyone," I told him, "but with some people, you just need to work harder to find it."

"Perhaps," was his response, but I got the feeling that he didn't believe in my instinct or the saying. No matter, though, I thought, for I don't need Jesse's approval for what I do, and he seems to have just made clear that he will not be alarmed if I heed the advice I'm telling myself. Besides, it's all I can trust right now – bits and pieces of me that I still have, although my thoughts on this boy, this man, seem to be in conflict.

Still, he seemed like he might be able to help me. That is, if I could actually get him to tell the truth and spare me his massively unnecessary dose of witty repartee.

Jesse pulled me from my thoughts by cupping a hand under my chin and pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "I am afraid that I must go," he informed me, looking quite regretful. "I shall be back when I am next able. Stay safe."

Before waiting for my response, he had dematerialised. Sighing, I got ready to go back to sleep. I was still uncannily tired, and beginning to wonder whether or not I was going to have to spend more than half my life sleeping away in a hospital.

Well, I thought as I snuggled down under the covers, I sure hope not.

* * *

When I woke up again, I was still hugely drowsy. This really annoyed me. I was tired of constantly feeling so tired and moreover I just couldn't understand my long periods of tiredness and the aching bones that accompanied it. None of it really made any sense. 

I didn't want to try and move, deciding it would probably be a really bad idea and that it would end up with me in even more intense pain than the dull throb that I was experiencing.

I could hear low mumbles in the background, and they both slowly became words that my brain could process as I lay there, looking for all of the world like I was still asleep. At first though, all I caught was snippets of sentences.

"…Physically she seems to be doing okay…. noticed sometimes she seems to be suffering from… gets inexplicable pains, we've observed…"

The voice is familiar. I struggle to be more conscious of what they're saying. The first full sentence that I catch is said by a different person, but still by one that also seems oddly familiar.

"Then… what about mentally?"

There was a long pause, making me unconsciously hold my breath for a moment. I was sure by this time that they were talking about me and it was strange and a little scary at the prospect of hearing a doctor's prognosis on what was going on within my head.

"Psychologically, her state seems quite unstable. She seems rather pent on self destruction. There was an incident where a vase was cracked right next to her on her bed when nobody else had been in the room, and I found her on the floor, confused and denying it, but with no adequate explanation about what happened."

The other woman – for I was convinced, at least, that she was female – gave a strangled sort of cry.

"Anything else?" the lady asked hesitantly.

I had a feeling what else was going to be said and was really mad, not to mention confused. I tried to sit up, then cursed myself, the pain duplicating again. The attention of both of the women turned to me, then.

One of them was my nurse – the one who didn't seem to know much about the job. I was convinced of that even more, now. Self-destructive? Me? Honestly!

The other was a woman who'd been there the first time I'd woken up. I wondered if she'd been introduced, but my head was pounding too much for me to settle on the memory and consider that. It would probably just appear as a murky haze, anyway. Memories seemed surprisingly good at doing this.

"Susie!" the woman who was not my nurse said in relief and a little guilt. I noticed that she seemed to have been crying, if the puffy red quality of her eyes was anything to go by, that is.

I, however, ignored her and glowered at the nurse. "I'm not self-destructive!" I glowered indignantly. "I don't know what happened, but I tell you, _I didn't do it!_"

The nurse very unprofessionally ignored her distraught patient – ie. me – and said to the lady, "We think she may have hit her head."

"_I didn't hit my head!"_ I practically shrieked in frustration. I don't know how that woman got a job as a curse. Thank God she wasn't a councillor. Although, she might make a good anger management councillor… for people to shriek at until she'd finished underestimating their intelligence, that is.

She acted as if I wasn't in the room. "We also had a woman in to do a psychological analysis, she asked for a mirror and, when she was given it, within a minute of it she had smashed the mirror, cut her palms and reached down to pick up the sharp pieces." She gave the other lady a meaningful look, and I closed my eyes as I heard the soft, sad, disbelieving gasp.

"It was an accident," I growl, my voice extremely strained, "and I bent down to pick up the pieces so that nobody would unknowingly walk on them, not realizing they were there."

Neither of them believed me. I huffed and turned away, ignoring the pain that had considerably lessened already and had swept away with the tiredness. Idiots.

Nobody talked again after that, but I heard heels clicking away down the corridor, and only then did I turn back around. The nurse had gone – _thank God_ – but the woman was still there.

"So," I asked stiffly, "who are you, anyway?"

Her eyes started to water up even more, and she forced a sad, tremulous smile onto her face. "Oh, Suzie, it's me. I'm your mother."

And it was only in that second that I connected the voice.

* * *

Author's Notes: My Paul is very confusing, just to let you know. He's by far the most complex character in this fic. As you've noticed, there are several original characters (though I think Alicia is the only one that's come up so far) too, and they're still not as complex as Paul. He changes a lot due to situation, so don't write him off as good or bad yet. Wait until you have the whole picture. 

I couldn't figure out how to tell some parts of the story, so I settled on use of interludes, and we'll be hitting the first one soon. That will explain a lot of things that Suze POV can't, but it won't get too deep into the fic - nope, we need WAY more suspense before that:P

Next Chapter: The overdue reunion of Suze and her mother takes place, and is just as awkward as anticipated. And Suze isn't pleased with the solutions - and their conditions - that people are pushing at her.


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